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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756164">Revolt on Antares: Flashpoint at Starport Imirrhos</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peranska/pseuds/Peranska'>Peranska</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Revolt on Antares Collection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Revolt on Antares (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Because those don't mean anything to anybody, Board Games, Flash Gordon-esque?, Gen, Military Science Fiction, My mother said it reminded her of that, Psychic Abilities, Science Fiction, Space Opera, The best part about writing about something no one else has written about is listing 4 million names, War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:53:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peranska/pseuds/Peranska</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Antares 9 lies at the far edge of the Terran Dominion, wealthy and populous, but overlooked; free to its own devices.<br/>When the new Emperor threatens the ruling Houses' power, there can only be one outcome.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Revolt on Antares Collection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947694</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Revolt on Antares is a microgame from TSR, released in 1981, heavily influenced by the sci fi of the time. It's one of their more iconic minor products, but I don't think it's very well known.</p><p>I've always had a soft spot for it, and I ended up creating my own version of the universe the more I thought about it.</p><p>I didn't intend to publish this piece for a while, but my mother read it and mistook it for being finished, so I figure it can be a chapter one of sorts.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The binary star system of Antares is one of the oldest trade centers of humanity, filled with space stations, mining outposts, and jumpgates to distant worlds. It is also home to the populous colony world designated as Antares 9, commonly called Imirrhos. In the hundreds of years it has sat under the rule of the Terran Empire, its founding families have developed into vast, powerful clans, free to indulge in their own squabbles and interests. But independent and over-proud vassals do not serve an empire well. Especially not a failing one.</p><p>In the year 2900, the new Emperor, Raul VII, reeling from the loss of the foundries of Rigel, scrambled to rebuild his nation’s strength. With the aim of absolute control over his subjects, he cast aside generations of tradition, extracting tribute and power with steel and fire, annihilating any who opposed him. Within only a few years, he was the ultimate authority. With his sights on more pressing troubles, he thought little of distant Antares, at the periphery of his empire.</p><p>In 2906, knowing only that the inhabitants of “Imirrhos” were a good deal too self-important for his liking, he assigned them a new Consul, a man he could trust to enforce his will unquestioningly. The quietly-smoldering ember of Antares, however, would not be doused so easily.</p><p> </p><p>Ward Serpentine arrived in Starport Imirrhos with a full Imperial escort, having taken careful time on the trip to study his new charge. Still, he was struck by what greeted him. The great city stretched out to the horizon beneath his shuttle, sparkling and humming with the rush and bustle of tens of millions of people. It was filled with glittering skyscrapers, criss-crossed with impossibly high skybridges, and constantly moving. Everywhere he looked, he could see ships and cars and buses and people. Everywhere, people. Tiny little pinpricks of color, driving tiny vehicles and walking down tiny streets and even bouncing from rooftop to rooftop, on equally tiny jetpacks. They were so small he could hold them in his hand.</p><p>The motes of color on the landing pad of the capital’s colossal Council House quickly resolved into distinct shapes. As they drew closer and closer, he could see the already familiar faces of the lords of the Seven Houses of Imirrhos, just as they appeared in his briefing. They had gathered dutifully, awaiting his arrival. Even from here, he could see their stiff backs, guess at their sullen expressions. His shuttle dropped into its appointed place, quickly flanked by the others of the escort. The doors hissed and slid open, and he swept out onto the pad.</p><p>Serpentine cut an impressive figure. He was tall and confident, with a thick head of black hair and matching beard. He had eschewed the robes and jewels common to Imperial dignitaries, opting instead for something—<em> unusual </em> for a diplomat. His boots clanked against the metal, slamming to a halt as he stood to attention in front of the assembled lords, clad from the neck down in a dark brown suit of power armor. Before their shocked expressions could recover, he was followed by the lockstep thud of hundreds of other, similarly armored boots. Within moments, the entire landing pad was filled with soldiers. The simple white “03” emblazoned on each chest made their identity perfectly clear. The new Consul had arrived alongside an entire battalion of the Imperial Guard.</p><p> </p><p>The Antares 9 Council House was topped by an immense oval building, filled with hundreds of seats surrounding a wide arena, where images and holograms could be projected. Serpentine stood before his lone seat, taking in each face in turn. From his position at the other end of the chamber, he could see every council member as they entered. Even among the Houses he knew were most loyal, he could see confusion and resentment in their eyes. He smirked, looking behind him to his seated Berserkers, five hundred soldiers taking the place of the usual Imperial delegation. They were exactly the kind of stern, intimidating warriors you would choose to quell any disruption to the new order.</p><p>Still, the Council was not quite as cowed as he expected. Wherever he looked, there were nobles or merchant lords, each the member of one House or another, and all of them seemed to be armed. Swords and laser pistols were the order of the day, even among the most innocent and pathetic looking sycophant. Few of them would meet his eye, but unlike in the past, it didn’t seem like it was because they were afraid of him. He looked back at the shirtless figure who stood beside his chair. The muscled man was one of the planet’s native Imirrhan people, and he had a long spear planted beside him. They locked gazes. The native’s broad, flat face was carefully impassive, but his species’ characteristic crest was quivering, flared out like a hooded cobra’s. Save his own soldiers, this was the only person in the entire chamber who he could absolutely count on. Serpentine raised an eyebrow, and the man gave a miniscule nod. There was nothing to say; he turned back to the chamber.</p><p>The last of the Council was seated. Serpentine took a deep breath.</p><p>“With the authority of His Majesty the Emperor of the Terran Dominion, I, Ward Serpentine, of the Third Imperial House of Terra, accept the position of Consul for Antares 9 and its surrounding solar system, as well as all the duties and privileges attendant to that position.” He drew himself up in a magnanimous puff, sweeping his arms out. “I welcome each of the Houses of Antares, lords and lessers all. The Empire thanks you for your services and loyalty. To Mirrhos, of Imirrhos,” he turned his head to encompass the tall, powerful tribesman beside him, “I also extend my welcome and thanks to you, chieftain of chieftains, who represents the native peoples of this planet.”</p><p>He took his seat. “This Council is now in session.”</p><p>The next hours were filled with Imperial announcements and formality. Each new law or tariff the Consul put forward was read aloud, debated, then either put to a vote or declared law by decree. The routine was clear. The Council could only vote on rubber-stamp issues, always something they would be petty or idiotic to reject. Whatever unquestionable Imperial proclamation Serpentine declared would wrest away some aspect of local control that was, on its own, a small loss.</p><p>The proclamations soon overwhelmed any other discussion, and the Council slowed to a crawl. Each lord in turn would raise their concern, or a local trade baron would hesitantly lodge a protest. Every time, Serpentine shook his head, and stood by the Imperial decision. After all, only small changes were being made; it was the will of the Emperor.</p><p>The overall shape of the plan was lost on none of the Houses, however. For Lord Nureb Khan Edistyn, it was a matter of careful consideration. He let his eyes pass from Serpentine to his longtime rival, “Black Dougal,” raising a questioning brow. The head of House MacKenzie only offered a carefully noncommittal shrug. For the loyal Simon Fitzgerald, the consul’s assault left only confusion and worry. Turning slowly to his dear friend Ariton Sessedi, he found a similarly troubled expression, tinged with a deep sadness. Catherine Braganza, with typical manic aplomb, merely grinned, the only one yet to complain.</p><p>Barracuda Kinrabe, with folded arms and a sour look, turned to his most hated rival, hoping to see her out of sorts, instead finding—</p><p>“The Imperial Consul recognizes Lady Messalina Orsini, of House Orsini.”</p><p>“Lord Consul,” Finishing her abrupt rise to her feet, she acknowledged him with a nod. “I respect your decision to accept this difficult position, especially in these times of stress and turmoil. Governing Antares has never been an easy prospect, particularly for those of us with a more <em> hands-on </em>role.</p><p>“This Council has been fully informed of the latest amendments and policy changes asked of us by the Dominion. We have explored them in great detail for some hours, without reaching a consensus.” She scanned the room, spreading her arms, “I sense that a number of my colleagues are ... <em> troubled </em> by these alterations.” Her eyes darkened, and she locked eyes with Serpentine. “I am a proud ruler, of a proud house, from a line that has governed great parts of this planet for three hundred years. I must say this, with all due pride: should the Dominion continue down this path, I shall do more than lodge a formal <em> protest </em>.”</p><p>Serpentine reared back. “You speak very bluntly, your ladyship. More bluntly than I will accept in an Imperial Council.”</p><p>“Then perhaps it is no longer an Imperial Council.”</p><p>Hundreds of eyes turned to the speaker. Black Dougal MacKenzie, leaning forward and playing fitfully with his moustache, wasn't quite looking at anyone. </p><p>“<em> I beg your pardon? </em>” The Consul rose with an infuriated flush.</p><p>MacKenzie looked up at him thoughtfully. Slowly, he rose. “House MacKenzie stands,” he turned to see, “with whatever decision House Orsini should make.”</p><p>He and Messalina shared a look that spoke of deep trust and devotion. Their houses rose almost as one behind them, ready to die for each other.</p><p>Serpentine shook with the wrath of the headsman’s axe. The other lords, feeling the tide shift, tensed themselves, eyes bouncing from face to face. The constant clamor of the room rose to a fever pitch as swords began to rattle in their sheaths, minor lordlings rose to their feet in defiance of their masters, and Messalina Orsini, with a swirl of her cloak and an outstretched hand, shouted:</p><p>“Freedom for Imirrhos!”</p><p>Kinrabe leapt to his feet with a triumphant shout of “Traitor!” the same instant that Lady Braganza announced “House Braganza stands with House Orsini!” The Houses boiled up behind their lords, drawing blades and pistols in equal measure, as the stern Fitzgerald and the smiling Edistyn each took turns declaring their loyalty.</p><p>Suddenly, the Council chamber froze, mid-surge, as the last lord took to his feet.</p><p>“<em> Stop </em>!” A rush of wind echoed throughout every mind as the telepath’s cry forced its way through them. With shaking hand and gritted teeth, Ariton Sessedi looked all around him, with sorrow etched on his face, before his eyes settled on Simon Fitzgerald.</p><p>“House Sessedi stands with House Orsini!” He let his hand fall. With a quiet murmur, he added, “I'm sorry, Simon.”</p><p>In the unimaginable silence that followed, you could hear Simon Fitzgerald’s heart break. His face twisted from horror to fury. One long, agonized scream tore through the air, and his House fell upon the Sessedi like animals.</p><p>The battle filled the entire arena immediately, as thousands of nobles, oligarchs, and politicians cut and blasted each other to ribbons. Many of them flooded the exits, or slammed desperately at the windows. With a last look at Lady Orsini, MacKenzie spread his arms and <em> pulled </em> on the air itself. With a vision-distorting ripple of power, he and the nobles of his House vanished into thin air. As more Terrans suddenly charged into the room at Serpentine’s command and the Berserkers behind him rushed into action, others took his cue and began their own teleports to safety.</p><p>Serpentine, twin hand blasters drawn, stood back to back with Mirrhos, surrounded by the chaotic press of loyalist and rebel fighters. At his shout, the fresh Terran troops raised their rifles at the massed rebel crowd. Then, they faltered, wobbling as if they were off balance. They jerked back to attention, then turned and fired. Dozens of Kinrabe nobles fell at the first volley. This strange betrayal rattled the loyalist forces, who drew back around their lords.</p><p>Messalina lowered her hand with a smirk, her hair still rippling with psychic energy. As always, her power had granted her the upper hand. With a triumphant cheer, her House surged to the doors, leading the rebel forces on their escape from the Council chamber.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sky was a deep, calm blue, with gentle puffs of white clouds and the streaks of passing ships. Beneath the Council House, the city still buzzed with life. No one could miss the sudden light show, however. Passing hovercraft slowed to a crawl; citizens raised their heads and stared. The vessels of the Imperial escort shone gold in the sun, rocking as hundreds of rebels swarmed in. All around them the city slowed, then stopped, staring, as every eye and screen turned to the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, an airliner detonated on its way overhead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three Imperial airjets roared into existence, tore through the falling wreck, and spun about for another pass. The city erupted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nureb Khan braced himself against the landing pad railing, as a torrent of wind bypassed the building’s failing air shield. With growing dread, he realized that he could make out screams from the nearby highway. The streets were already crowded with rubble and ashes. As he watched, the windows blew out of the nearest skyscraper, taking with them a shower of barely-discernible figures. Someone grabbed hold of his stunned body and shook him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lord! My lord!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and tried to master himself. The woman holding him gasped as an errant blast ripped by their heads. She had him in a death grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind raced, unable to cope with the sensory overload. The twisting, howling, shriek of the city’s air raid sirens drilled into his head. The city continued to explode around them. Worst of all, one of his sudden premonitions was struggling for control of his vision. Through flashes as he struggled to focus on </span>
  <em>
    <span>here and now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Edistyn realized that something was about to go terribly wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to get out of here, soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord, we need your orders! Please!” People in yellow were crowding against them, trying to hold against the wind and confusion. Members of his House. They all looked to him. He straightened up. To his left, the exultant Kinrabe was torn between two joys, hemming in a tighter and tighter ring around Lady Braganza, while also directing fire against the escaping shuttles. To his right, the raging Fitzgerald was rallying loyalists downwards, chasing after the rebels who had fled deeper into the Council House. The Imperial Consul, still within, suddenly broke away from the other Terrans in the now mostly empty chamber and headed towards the pathetic cluster of House Edistyn nobles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time to perform. He slapped their snatching hands away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get ahold of yourselves! Are you my finest or not?” He turned to Serpentine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lord. A battalion of my laser tanks is barely two hundred miles from the city. With your air power and my army, we can crush these rebels before nightfall.” He carefully waved his terrified kin back, surreptitiously directing them into the building. Serpentine wasn’t even looking at any of them, heading straight for the battle at the other end of the pad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An excellent suggestion. Ready your soldiers to bombard the city at once.” Serpentine continued marching towards the trapped Braganza. The towering Mirrhos, following close behind him, froze. All of them looked at the Consul blankly. He stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a problem with that, Lord Edistyn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Nureb Khan could answer, the sky turned dim, and the sounds of destruction in the city suddenly became strangely leaden, echoing like they were bouncing off the walls of a heavily-carpeted room. He looked up, seeing the familiar bubble-like transparency of a city force shield, covering the entirety of Starport Imirrhos. With sudden comprehension, he turned to his people and summoned up his most commanding voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send word at once to the 15th. They are to fire on all exits from the city immediately. Absolutely none of these traitors must escape.” His gaze fell on Serpentine. “The shield will prevent any harm to our people. Isn’t that right, Lord Consul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” said the grim figure. His eyes, cold and hard, were locked on the increasingly desperate rebels on the landing pad. “The Emperor would hardly waste the lives of loyal citizens.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bodies piled high against the railing. Ragged members of various rebel Houses had built a barricade from corpses and scraps of anything on hand, from the chairs of the assembly chamber to metal peeled from the smoking ruin of the last shuttle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catherine “the Mad” may have been a chaotic woman, but she was no coward. Nor was she faithless. She had waited for the last stragglers, and when the ship had failed to take off, she did not run. Instead, she stood her ground, shouting orders and laughing with erratic glee. She and Kinrabe made interesting opponents, since neither shrunk from war, preferring to revel in the rush of battle. Her enthusiasm and the determination of her surviving warriors was not enough, however. Alone and outnumbered; there could only be one outcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The swordsmen of Kinrabe’s House fell back at a command, retreating behind their own makeshift wall, which was now reinforced by the Berserkers. Serpentine stepped out between the two lines as the fire slackened, and everything on the pad became still. Though his words were punctuated by explosions and distant gunfire, his calm and smug confidence was evident.</span>
</p><p><span>“Lady Braganza. Assembled … </span><em><span>masters</span></em><span> of Antares. Look around you.” His boots made a smear of blood against the metal. “Look at what this little</span> <span>revolt</span> <span>has already cost you. I speak with the full authority of the Dominion. I can offer you mercy. Only </span><em><span>one</span></em><span> of you need die today.” He had a chillingly magnanimous expression.</span></p><p>
  <span>Catherine rose from the hunkered crowd, standing above the barricade for all to see. The wind played with her hair, catching the short curls. She looked down at the people at her feet, who looked up with uncertainty and fear. With a sad smile, she looked up at Serpentine. The rippling shadow of the shield fell away, dousing her in a beam of sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An enormous bolt of lightning tore from the sky, following the hole her powers had opened in the shield. It slammed down into Serpentine, who was consumed in a burst of flame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Terran line collapsed into confusion, falling back before the House Braganza nobles, who charged as if they had been expecting this all along. Before they could capitalize on their turnaround, however, an all-too familiar voice rang out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steady, soldiers of Terra! I am still your Consul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ward Serpentine emerged from the terrified rabble, nearly a hundred meters back from where the bolt had struck. The fighters on the landing pad stood in shock. As the dust cleared, they could see a second figure, identical to him, still standing in the smoking crater. Then, Barracuda Kinrabe began to laugh. The white glow in his eyes faded, and the second Serpentine fuzzed into nothingness. He continued to chuckle as he shoved his way to the front of the line, stopping to rest one foot on a fallen spar of metal and pose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re finished, Braganza. You and those other rats are through. You made the wrong call, and this time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> on top.” The Kinrabe nobles and other loyalists around him shared his wide grin. “Your lordship,” he nodded to Serpentine, “your victory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could respond, a shower of lasers slammed into the Imperial Guard. Hundreds of soldiers in dark green uniforms swarmed onto the pad from underneath, their jump packs white-hot with exertion. Braganza and the other councillors vanished in a tide of bodies, and all of them were gone in moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serpentine came to beneath the shadow of Mirrhos, who stood over him like a titan, a soldier still pinned to the end of his spear. He staggered up, looking around at the chaos of his forces. Guardsmen were lying dead everywhere, as were dozens of Kinrabe’s nobles. A slew of the jump troopers were still scattered across the pad, lying where they had fallen, but there was no sign of the previously “trapped” rebels. Lady Braganza’s luck had not dried up yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back to the Council chamber, catching the tail end of the retreating Edistyns, who had fled moments before the ambush began. He shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far overhead, the shield shivered and rippled as distant laserfire slammed into the outskirts of the city. Well, at least the locals could be counted on for something. An Imperial medical transport hummed into view, slowly ascending to dock with the landing pad. He steadied himself against Mirrhos’ arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, people. We’ve got a planet to keep. Let’s move it!”</span>
</p>
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